Be Still, My Soul

Late last night Mauri came in sobbing.  Rivers of tears were flowing.  She had gone to show Shilo her latest pet, and when they arrived at the nest, it was empty.  Shilo remained optimistic as she suggested that the little birdie had perhaps learned to fly.  Mauri searched the ground, and within moments found Starling. Deceased. 

After some hugs and consolation, I told Mauri to go ask her Dad if he would help her bury him.  True heros are always ready to step in and save the day, and just as I had suspected, Bill proved his hero-ness once again.  They found a proper burial site, dug the hole, lovingly placed Starling in it, covered him up, and added a few rocks on top as a memorial.  Then they said a prayer.  Bill read a scripture.  A service worthy of a beloved friend.

It reminded me of a Sunday long ago, when our first official pet -- a fish -- died.  I can't even remember it's name.  We hadn't had it for long, but my children had become attached.  There's something to be said about the emotions of pet-ownership.  Bonds are formed.  Love, friendship, kindness, concern -- children seem to learn about the beginnings of such deep feelings as they care for a living creature dependent on them for life.  

So even though I can't remember the name of the fish, or even what kind of fish it was, I remember that it was on a Sunday.  It wasn't the normal run-around-the-house-play-all-day kind of day.  The kids were in their Sunday clothes.  The Hero (who deals with all things deceased) was away, most likely to a church meeting, and I had to manage the death of our pet fish on my own.  I remember we held a little service -- including a prayer -- before the flushing of the toilet (that way I didn't have to touch it).  Then my sweet little children sat on the sofa and cried rivers.  And I played Be Still, My Soul on the piano.  Reverently.  Softly.  To the sound of their sobs.

And now, even as I write, Mauri and Caitlin, along with a few siblings (all Caitlin's), are quite happily standing over the burial site of Starling (although they have forgotten their original name and are now calling him Starlight), talking about how every Saturday will be Starlight Day.  They will gather 'round the grave and talk about good memories.  And how it's good that we didn't mark the site with a sign that said "Dead Bird."  Those kids crack me up.